


angels pressed in snow

by neoncity



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Pre-Canon, Yuri Plisetsky Is A Little Shit, he's also 10, look i just wanted to write viktor and yuri bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29220516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neoncity/pseuds/neoncity
Summary: Yuri, sitting on the small table in the back of the room, cast Viktor's outfit a critical look."Don't wear that, you look dumb""Did you come here just to criticize me?""Yes" Yuri said without missing a beat."You are a horrible child," Viktor told him.Viktor takes an interest in Yuri, the new kid at the rink. Despite the thirteen year difference and their two very strong personalities, somehow, slowly, a friendship blooms.
Relationships: Victor Nikiforov & Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40
Collections: Yuri!!! on Ice Remix Challenge 2021





	angels pressed in snow

There was a new kid at the rink. 

Viktor was familiar with most of the younger skaters that trained under Yakov. Yakov had him help train them sometimes, and he knew most, if not all by name. They were sweet kids, passionate about skating and dedicated, and always eager to spend time with the living legend of skating. 

This was the first time Viktor was seeing this boy at the rink. His face was expressionless and concentrated, odd for his age, and he interacted little with the other kids, completely immersed in his skating.

He was good, that much was evident. 

When Yakov stormed over to tell him to either go home already or help him teach, as he was distracting the students, Viktor asked about the boy.

"Yuri Plisetsky," Yakov answered. "He just moved here from Moscow"

Interesting. "He's young"

"He's ten," Yakov said. 

Most of the other skaters in this group were twelve or thirteen, with a few a little older or younger. Yuri was the youngest by far. 

Viktor braced his hands against the railing, stretching his arms. "I'll teach." 

  
  


Yuri Plisetsky took his advice quietly, eyes narrowing when Viktor told him what to improve and calm attendance as he waited to be told how he'd done.

Viktor caught a hint of defiance in his eyes after Yuri perfectly executed a spin Viktor has criticized.

There were very few people who didn't fawn over Viktor upon first meeting him. Even the kids in this group still whispered about him to each other and looked starry eyed when he helped teach, and Viktor saw them three times a week.

Yuri didn't.

When practice was over, Yuri sat alone while the other kids chattered as their parents asked them about their lesson and helped them with their stuff.

Yuri carefully took off and dried his skates, put everything in his bag, and sat quietly on the bench, waiting, until an elderly man came to pick him up.

All in all, a very interesting child.

Yuri was stubborn. He was the first on the ice and the last off. He tried over and over again when he failed and always got up without complaint.

He snapped at the other kids at times and glared at anyone who looked his way. Viktor had only ever seen him smile when class was over, when his grandfather would come pick him up.

Today, the junior group was skating both morning and afternoon, with a short lunch break. Yakov couldn't keep them all as students, and today served as a sort of assessment to see who would pass and continue training under him and who wouldn't. 

Viktor sat down on the same table as Yuri at lunch, setting his tray down. He sent the boy a bright smile. "Hi."

It was the first time he'd interacted with him outside of a class. 

Yuri returned the greeting, picking at his food.

"Important day today, huh? You must be nervous." Viktor said.

"It doesn't really matter how I do today," Yuri said. "It's not like Yakov hasn't seen me skate before. That's more important than just today.”

Fair point. "Do you think you can make the cut?" Viktor asked.

Yuri's eyes were determined. "Yes. I have to"

Viktor smiled slightly at him. "I'm rooting for you"

____

Yuri made the cut, of course. There was no surprise there.

"You need a hobby," Yakov told him. "Or friends. Both." 

"I have a hobby," Viktor said indignantly. "You coach me in said hobby, Yakov.”

He neglected to address the friends part. 

There were people Viktor hung out with, some fellow rinkmates, others people he would meet up with at bars and clubs occasionally. 

None were people he would consider more than very casual friends. 

“Coach you,” Yakov muttered, interrupting his train of thought. “As if you listen to me.”

“I do listen to you!”

“Yea, once in a blue moon maybe.”

____

Viktor and Yuri continued eating lunch together, out of Viktor’s initiative more than Yuri’s. Yuri just stared at him distrustfully the first few times or flat out ignored him.

They made an odd pair, a ten year old and a twenty three year old sitting together alone at a table.

Most people were too intimidated to sit with Viktor, or jealous, or would sit with him not because they cared to get to know him but so they'd have a story to tell their friends, an autograph to show off, or something of the sort.

Viktor had spent many years eating alone. 

Yuri was too young to get along well with his rinkmates, not to mention brash and arrogant, though Viktor supposed part of the arrogance was well deserved.

Three years younger than his rinkmates and he already was at the top of his group. Yakov had already been talking about moving him out of the general classes he taught and starting privately coaching him seriously, like he had done with Viktor and Georgi.

Viktor found he enjoyed company, even when the company was a grouchy ten year old.

Especially when it was a grouchy ten year old.

Yuri attended his first competition in Moscow that weekend, and won.

The next day, Viktor dragged him out to the ice cream place near the rink to celebrate.

Yuri ate his ice cream and stared at Viktor suspiciously the whole time as if the older man had poisoned his food and Viktor had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing as it was truly a hilarious expression from a ten year old.

__

“When I said you need friends I didn’t mean a sixth grader,” Yakov told him.

“He’s a sweet kid.”

“He laughed when Katya fell yesterday.”

“To be fair it was a little funny.”

“I see why you two get along now.”

___

Yuri warmed up to him eventually. He would never go out of his way to sit with Viktor, but would talk to him if they were at the same table.

They spent lunches discussing various subjects, or in Yuri’s case, complaining about his rinkmates and updating Viktor on his plans to convince his grandfather to let him get a cat. 

One day, Yuri came in with an ear splitting grin and a small scratch on his cheek and Viktor could guess what had happened before Yuri trumpiantly announced it.

“Her name is Tiger Puma Scorpion and I would die for her.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “Is this like a first, second and last name kind of thing, or? “

“It’s one name.”

Ah. “That’s a mouthful.”

“It’s cool.”

“I’m calling her Potya,” Viktor announced.

“Puma Tiger Scorpion.”

“Potya.”

It was three days before Yuri reluctantly accepted the nickname.

____

"Why have you taken such an interest in this child?" Yakov asked him after a while.

"I don't know."

And truthfully, he didn't. 

____

It wasn't uncommon for Yuri's grandfather to arrive a bit after the other parents, but it was rare for him to arrive late.

The clock on the wall ticked on and on as the ice rink changing room slowly emptied and with every minute that passed Yuri hunched in on himself a little more. 

Viktor had a whispered conversation with Yakov on the other side of the room, where Yuri couldn't hear. 

"Is there no one you can call?" Viktor asked.

Yakov shook his head. "His grandfather isn't answering his phone."

"Parents?" Viktor tried.

Yakov shook his head. "There's no one."

Oh.

Viktor glanced at the small shape sitting alone on the bench, hoodie pulled up and arms wrapped tightly around himself. 

Viktor sat down next to him, gave what he hoped was a comforting pat on the shoulders, and waited.

Viktor had some snacks and packaged food left over, and eventually he retrieved them and offered them to Yuri.

Yuri refused them. 

They waited.

Nikolai Plisetsky walked into the ice rink fifty six minutes late.

Hobbled was a more accurate word, actually, or whatever constituted as running when you were an elderly man with back problems but also frantic to pick up your grandson.

Yuri was up like a flash and hugged his grandfather and refused to let go.

Nikolai had left his phone at home, and there had been a major traffic jam because of an accident that had delayed him, and there was nothing he had been able to do to warn Yakov.

Viktor had talked to Mr Plisetsky before in the past, most of it polite small talk, but today Nikolai regarded him with something serious in his eyes as they spoke.

"Thank you for staying with my Yuratchka."

Viktor inclined his head. "It was my pleasure.”

After they left, Viktor helped Yakov close the rink. As they walked to the parking lot in silence, Yakov spoke.

“I can see why now.”

“What?” Viktor asked absently, digging through his bag for his car keys.

“Yuri. He reminds you of yourself, doesn’t he?”

Viktor opened his mouth to say no, but something stopped him. 

Because the small boy who was training privately with one of the best coaches in the country at ten years old, who surpassed all the kids his age, but who skated desperately like he needed it to breathe and waited alone at the rink with no parents to call were too painfully a mirror image of his own childhood to say no.

“That’s what I thought” 

Yakov’s voice was gentler. 

“Goodnight Vitya”

__

The next day, Viktor was in the cafeteria before anyone else, icing his sore elbow which had taken the brunt of a bad fall.

As the gaggle of skaters came in, Yuri stopped at the entrance, scanned the room, and walked straight towards Viktor, sitting down next to him without saying a word.

Viktor made the mistake of telling Yuri to try these amazing pirozhkis he'd found and Yuri took that as a personal offense, insisting that nothing came even close to his grandfather's pirozhkis.

Somehow, that had ended with Viktor, currently at Yuri's house, waiting on Nikolai Plisetsky’s famous pirozhkis to finish cooking while Yuri encouraged his cat to climb onto Viktors face.

This was his life now apparently.

He wasn’t complaining.

And they were damn good pirozhkis.

___

The week before leaving for nationals, Yakov stopped Viktor in the hall. 

"Yuri's not coming today," Yakov told him. "He picked a fight at school"

Viktor raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"

"Some kid told him skating is for sissies" 

"And?"

"Yuri punched him"

Viktor winced. It was no secret that Yuri had a short temper, but he hadn't expected it to escalate physically that quickly.

"I mean the kid kinda had it coming."

"Vitya."

Viktor sighed. "I'll talk to him."

"Thank you. His grandfather isn't happy. The last thing he wants is for Yuri to go down his father's path."

What exactly that path was, Viktor didn't ask.

As Yuri picked at his food, more sullen than usual, Viktor considered how to bring up the topic.

Yuri was favouring his right hand, making eating lunch awkward for the left handed kid.

"Does your hand still hurt?" Viktor asked.

Yuri glanced up at him. "A little."

Viktor hummed in response. He reached over Yuri's plate and cut his meat for him. "There, that should make it easier"

No response.

"The boy was wrong to say what he did." Viktor said. "But you were wrong to punch him"

Yuri's hand tightened around his fork. "He made fun of me in front of everyone."

"I know. And I'm sorry. But you can't use violence as your solution."

"Why not??" 

Viktor had no answer for that. Thankfully, Yuri seemed to have gotten the point.

"Dedushka is mad at me," he said quietly.

Viktor blinked at him, surprised. He doubted that was true. Nikolai loved his grandson fiercely and Viktor doubted he would be mad at Yuri over something like this.

"Your grandfather isn't mad at you, Yuri. He’s just a little worried."

Viktor took Yuri's hand and inspected it. Surprisingly, Yuri let him. He couldn't be hurt badly if he was here training, and no matter how bad a punch, there was only so much force a ten year old could put into it. He seemed alright, so Viktor released his hand.

Viktor probably shouldn't say what he was about to say. Yakov would kill him. 

"Can you show me the fist you made?"

Yuri looked taken aback, but complied.

"If you're going to punch someone, do it properly. Your thumb goes outside your fingers"

___

"Viktor, repeat after me. I did not teach a ten year old how to throw a punch"

"I did not teach a ten year old to throw a punch" Viktor repeated obediently.

Yakov glared at him. 

"How did you manage to do the exact opposite of what I asked you to?"

"Look, I talked to him about it," Viktor said, suddenly more serious, "but we both know Yuri. If he's going to punch someone he might as well not break his hand while he does it,"

"One day I'm going to sue you for stress related health complications," Yakov told him. 

"Your hair isn't thinning that much," Viktor said encouragingly.

Yakov's eye twitched. "What did you say about my hair??"

Whoops, maybe not as encouraging as he'd thought. 

___

Viktor hung out with Georgi that weekend.

He didn't often spend time with the other skater, despite them both training under the same coach and being close in age, but Georgi had invited him out and Viktor had accepted.

The main topic of the conversation was Georgi's girlfriend, and the upcoming nationals they were both competing in.

In Georgi's case, the two topics coincided.

"My outfit is red to symbolize my love for Irina," he declared. "I will win gold and present it to her as token of my love and we will marry at the beach where we met"

"Georgi, you've been dating for two months," Viktor said mildly.

"Love is love Vitya!"

Right. Georgi was dramatic even for Viktor’s standards. 

"Is your outfit done yet?" Georgi asked him. 

"I'm trying it on this week to do some final adjustments"

Viktors had two outfits to try out, he still wasn't sure which one he was going to wear to the nationals. He'd see which one to pick when he met with his designer on Wednesday.

Yuri tagged along with him when he went, both out of curiosity and because he was avoiding homework by doing so.

Was Viktor encouraging bad behavior by letting him come along? He hoped not.

Nikolai trusted him.

He'd told him he thought he was a "responsible adult" and that he was glad he was "there for Yura" and Viktor had had fun trying to guess what color Yakov's face would turn next as that conversation had gone on.

"Who even wears purple bow ties? Vitya are you sure you want this guy designing for you?" Yuri said loudly.

Viktor's designer looked taken aback, hands reaching up to his bow tie subconsciously.

Viktor turned away for a second to compose his face before facing Yuri.

"Alexei Guryanov is a highly respected stylist who has made me many outfits in the past," he said sternly. "Be nice"

Yuri scowled. "Your outfit could be worse," he told Alexei, which Viktor supposed was his way of apologizing.

Alexei blinked. "Who are you again?"

"That's Yuri," Viktor replied. "You can ignore him"

"You can try," Yuri muttered.

Ah yes, this was why Viktor had brought him along.

Normally, outfit tryouts were beyond boring, having to stand still while people flitted around him taking down measurements and stabbing his clothing with needles.

At least things were a little more interesting with Yuri here.

__

Viktor turned slowly on the spot, trying to see the back of his costume in the mirror. This was the second of the two, black pants and an orange red top with a red pattern that continued along one arm.

Yuri, sitting on the small table in the back of the room, cast his outfit a critical look.

"Don't wear that, you look dumb" 

"Did you come here just to criticize me?"

"Yes" Yuri said without missing a beat.

"You are a horrible child," Viktor told him.

"I liked the other one better."

The other one was a frosted blue green top that faded to white along the arms and to black around his waist, blending into his black pants.

"Didn't you say that one sucked?"

"Sucks less than this one" Yuri clarified. "Isn't Georgi going in red? Do you want to look like Georgi?"

"Who's to say he's not going to look like me?"

"You'd still match." 

Point. Viktor gave the outfit a considerate look in the mirror. "I'll go with the other."

Yuri let out a quiet "yess."

Viktor shook his head at him. 

"What kind of design would _you_ like anyway?" 

It was going to be a few years before Yuri was going to be competing in anything serious, but Viktor couldn't help but be curious about his taste in clothing.

"Leopard print," Yuri said immediately.

Viktor looked at him in horror. "What?"

___

Viktor, Georgi and Yakov flew to Krasnoyarsk for that year's nationals. 

Jet lagged and tired, Viktor collapsed onto his bed the second he got into his hotel room. He turned on his phone to the rather perplexing text sent by an unknown number.

 **395798362:** You better win 

What. 

"God?" He texted back. 

**395798362:** Its Yuri

Ah. Viktor saved the number before replying.

 **Viktor:** since when do you have a phone?

 **Ice kitten:** It's Dedushka's

Ah whoops. Viktor tacked a word onto the contact name.

 **Ice kitten's grandfather:** good luck

Viktor smiled at the message, sending a quick thank you back. Then the exhaustion took over and he was out like a sack of bricks.

____

Viktor returned to Saint Petersburg victorious, gold medal in hand.

Or well, metaphorically.

The medal was stuffed somewhere inside his suitcase, but he was holding said suitcase in his hand, so he supposed it still counted? 

Yuri demanded to see the medal as soon as Viktor stepped into the rink after two days of rest, but Viktor didn't have it on him. 

When he finally got to see it that weekend at Viktor's house, he declared it not as shiny as it looked on TV but that he liked the design.

"That's because there aren't half a dozen lights pointed at it," Viktor told him. "The light in this room isn't even on Yuri.''

"Yura,” Yuri corrected. "You can call me Yura if you want" 

Yuri didn’t let anyone call him Yura. People got hissed at if they tried. The only exceptions were his grandfather and now Viktor.

And well, the girl Yakov had recently started coaching, Mila, who called him that despite the hissing and threats Yuri sent her way.

She seemed to get a kick out of it.

Sometimes, Viktor did feel bad for Yakov.

Viktor smiled. "Alright Yura. C'mon, we're going to miss the start"

Japan's skating nationals were on TV tonight, and the two were watching them together at Viktor’s house.

It was an activity they both enjoyed doing together, and having Yuri come over meant letting Nikolai Plisetsky take a well deserved rest. Nikolai loved his grandson, but he was far from young, and Yuri could be a handful. 

It was a win-win situation.

They ordered kebabs, because Viktor couldn't cook to save his life and wasn't even trying to pretend otherwise at this point. 

The first time Viktor had tried to cook while Yuri was around Yuri had laughed at him and Viktor had challenged him to do a better job.

In hindsight, that was a horrible thing to do when one of them was ten and the other was Viktor and they were the only two people in a kitchen they barely knew how to use. 

It had ended in a way that had required Viktor and Yuri to swear to each other to never speak of what had happened. 

Viktor had tried to swear the firefighters to secrecy but they just leveled him a flat look and he didn't push it.

The first skater was taking the ice, and Viktor brought his attention back to the screen.

The routine was okay he supposed, nothing extraordinary but not bad either.

Viktor didn't know many Japanese skaters, not many in recent years had been an actual threat, and he didn't often meet them at the international competitions he was used to attending.

Still, he watched with rapt interest as they took the ice one, after the other.

He got up to get a glass of water at one point, and came back just as the announcer called out a name

"Yuuri Katsuki!"

Yuri was watching intently, more so than with the other skaters. 

"Are you a fan?" Viktor asked.

"Yes," Yuri said. "He's one of my favorite skaters"

Viktor gasped dramatically. "He's your favorite skater? What about me?"

"I said _one_ of them. I'm my own favorite skater obviously. Yuuri Katsuki is up there. You're an annoying old man."

"I'm twenty three."

"Old."

Viktor rolled his eyes.

"Though I guess you are up there on the list too," Yuri said quietly.

Viktor smiled.

The music started and Viktor watched the skater with newfound interest.

He'd heard about Yuuri Katsuki vaguely, just as he'd heard about most of the other skaters, if only in passing.

"I can see why you like him," Viktor commented once he'd finished. "His jumps need work but his step sequences are mesmerizing"

"Yea." 

Viktor poked Yuri. "Take notes."

"What's wrong with my step sequences??" 

Yuri looked so outraged that Viktor nearly burst out laughing.

A ten year that was at least a little bit annoyed 90% of the time and sensitive to criticism really did not really give off the beauty and grace a step sequence was supposed to have.

He didn't tell him that, just ruffled the kid's hair and told him not to worry about it.

"I might need to watch out for him in a few years," Viktor mused, suddenly serious.

Yuri nodded in agreement.

"I want to compete against him one day," he declared. "Against you too."

He turned to Viktor suddenly. "I'll beat you one day." 

"I look forward to it," Viktor said honestly.

___

Yuri fell asleep eventually, as he was prone to when he stayed over late at Viktor's house.

Viktor woke him up gently and told him it was time to go home, to which Yuri responded by flopping over and closing his eyes again.

Stifling a laugh, Viktor sent Nikolai a message asking if it was okay for Yuri to just spend the night here.

**Ice kitten's grandfather:** that's fine

 **Viktor:** I can swing by tomorrow to get his skating stuff before we go to the rink

 **Ice kitten's grandfather:** okay

 **Ice kitten's grandfather:** thank you Vitya

__

"I was wrong about you and Yuri," Yakov said.

The two were standing in the hall just outside Viktor's apartment. Viktor had taken home a bag of Yakov's stuff by accident and Yakov had come by to pick it up.

"What do you mean?" Viktor asked.

"Your apartment is _clean_. Do you know how rare that is?"

"How do you know that's because of Yuri?"

"It's either Yuri or you're trying to impress a boy.

And if it were the second I would've heard about said boy by now. It's not like you to keep your relationships secret."

That was fair. Viktor had started cleaning up when Yuri came over, and it had surprisingly become a habit.

"You listen to my advice more when I teach," Yakov went on.

"Trying to teach Yuri how to do a triple axel gave me a healthy appreciation for what you do," Viktor said sheepishly.

"Exactly," Yakov said.

His voice softened. "You are both nightmares but, somehow, he's good for you. You're happier, Vitya. I can see it."

___

Christmas had always been a weird day for Viktor.

It was a day people typically spent with their family. It was also his birthday, also a day typically spent with family and friends.

One one hand, he was thankful they were both on the same day, as it meant he could get it over quicker. On the other, it was twice as depressing.

Most bars didn't open on Christmas, so Viktor couldn't even go and drown his feelings with drinks and music. He'd spent the last Christmas blasting music and skating.

Yakov had invited him to eat with his family, as he always had, but Viktor had always felt out of place.

Viktor spent the days leading up to Christmas getting presents for the few people in his life.

Yuri, of course, and Nikolai, Yakov, and Lilia. They were no longer married, but Lilia had trained Viktor since he was young, and he cared about her deeply. Georgi and a few other friends as well.

Yuri hounded him over his present for a week, demanding to know what it was. 

"You'll see it on Christmas. So impatient," Viktor teased. 

Yuri scowled at him. "Fine."

A thought struck Viktor. "You'll be here for Christmas right? Or will you be visiting family elsewhere?"

He knew most people met up with their extended family over the holidays.

"I'll be here. It's just me and dedushka."

He shot Viktor a look, as if daring him to question the fact he was spending Christmas with his grandfather alone.

"Perfect."

"What about you? Are you going anywhere?" Yuri asked curiously.

Viktor never talked about his family, or well, his lack of one, and he knew Yuri was curious.

"I'll be here."

"Is your family coming over to see you?"

Viktor stuffed his hands into his pockets, suddenly feeling cold. "It's just me."

Yuri stared at him, an unreadable look on his face. 

"Break is over. Yakov is calling you," Viktor said abruptly.

___

It was three days before Christmas, three days before Viktor’s birthday when he received the text message. He read it. Then he reread it.

**Ice kitten's grandfather:** yura and I would like to know if you'd like to come over on Christmas

 **Viktor:** what?

 **Ice kitten's grandfather:** yuri told me you're spending Christmas alone. If you'd like, you're welcome to come over.

 **Viktor:** I'll be there

____

Viktor agonized over what to wear and what to bring for two hours before finally deciding on jeans and a simple sweater.

He brought a bottle of wine and picked up the dessert he'd ordered the day before at a local bakery.

His stomach was twisted in knots as he rang the doorbell.

Yuri opened the door, grinning.

Behind him, a gentle fire crackled in the fireplace, and the smell of freshly baked bread filled the room.

"Happy birthday and Merry Christmas, idiot."

Viktor felt the anxiety fade as warmth spread through his chest.

"Merry Christmas, Yura."


End file.
